Axel on my Heartstrings
by nobracketsociety
Summary: Alfred falls on his face. A lot. On ice skates, and in life, never let it be said that he's a graceful person. But a new student with a secret may teach him necessary balance... on the ice, and on the heart. CanAme.
1. Chapter 1

**(A/n) Paris would like to immediately address the fact that this story existed** _ **before**_ **they watched Yuri on Ice or knew it existed, so it's really not based on that anime at all. (It admittedly helped out later on with some more of the terminology. But still.)**

 **This story was a request from SuperLeaf, who asked for some fluffy CanAme. We kind of took it and ran with it. XD We estimate it will be either a two-shot or a three-shot.**

 **Keep in mind that neither of us are hockey players or figure skaters, but we did our research and tried to be as accurate as possible. We apologise if we made a mistake somewhere. Feel free to let us know if you catch something.**

* * *

They'd won.

It hadn't been by much, but dammit, they'd won, and that was all that mattered.

Exhaling into the frosty air of the rink, Alfred skidded to a stop, yanking off his helmet and pulling out his mouth guard. He was sore everywhere, and chilled and ready to fall over.

And he couldn't be happier.

The rush of zooming across the ice with the goal in sight... the goalie hadn't remotely stood a chance against his adrenaline.

The roar of the crowd very nearly deafened him, and he couldn't help laughing out loud. Who knew parents and teachers could make so much noise?

His overwhelming excitement was almost cut short as the blade on his left skate slipped, nearly sending him face first onto the ice.

Luckily, he caught his balance, and decided it was time to head to the locker room, lest he maim himself.

He loved hockey.

From nearby, the team's newest member, Matthew, trailed after Alfred into the locker room, where he quickly found a seat and unlaced his skates. He watched the other team members congratulate Alfred on a great game with a twinge of envy.

The Canadian had transferred to the school a few short months ago. He went from being the captain of an undefeated team to being an unrecognizable newbie of an adequate team, but he didn't mind all that much.

As soon as the others left the arena, Matthew's fun could really start.

Catching sight of Matthew, Alfred offered him a friendly wave. "Hey- Matt, right? Me and the guys are going down to Cold Stone to celebrate. Wanna join us?"

"No, thank you," Matthew smiled politely. "I've got plans, but thank you anyway, Alfred."

"You're the kinda guy who's got plans at nine on a school night, huh?" Alfred joked. "Whatever. Maybe next time?"

"Yeah, maybe next time," Matthew agreed.

He just wanted the rest of them to clear out so he could enjoy his plans.

Shrugging, Alfred shouldered his bag. "Okay, then. See you Monday."

Finally, everyone filed out of the arena, leaving Matthew to his craft. He quickly stripped his hockey gear until he was in his leggings and tee shirt.

He took his personal skates out of his bag and he laced them up before sliding back onto the ice. He connected his phone to the Bluetooth speakers, turned on his music, and started skating.

Matthew grinned as he leapt into the air, the music filling his head and taking over his muscles. All the little aches and pains from the hockey game disappeared, leaving him with the happiness and the familiarity of the sound of skates clicking on the ice.

He was finally in his element. Figure skating was his secret vice, and he was never happier than he was when he was spinning and gliding on the ice.

Just outside the rink, Alfred paused. If he listened hard enough, he thought he could hear music filtering under the door. Narrowing his eyes, he dropped his bag.

"Hey, it sounds like some loitering kid is messing with the sound system again. I'll be right back, guys."

With a few impatient nods from his friends, he hastily re-entered the rink, hoping to quickly put a stop to the problem and get going. He only got a few nights off, and he didn't plan to waste this one on poorly raised children with too much time on their greasy little hands.

"All right, kids," Alfred began, putting on his best authority tone as he made his way between the seats. "This place is closed, so you-"

He froze at the railing, slapping a hand over his mouth. Was that Matthew down there...?

The Canadian was unable to hear him over the rush of adrenaline as he performed a spread eagle before landing into a flying sit spin, a favorite trick of his.

Alfred's mouth fell open. He was completely mesmerized. What was Matthew doing? Dancing on skates?

Matthew continued the routine until the song ended, breaking him from his trance with flushed cheeks and heavy breath.

When he saw that someone was watching him, and Alfred at that, his face lost all color and his feet lost his balance. After falling rather painfully on his ass, he flung his voice again. "W-what are you doing here, eh?"

"Oh!" Alfred gasped, realising he'd been seen. "I, ah... well, I heard music... and that usually means there are ten year olds vandalizing the sound system. Didn't mean to interrupt your... dance skating."

"Figure skating, and I'm going home now," Matthew called as he clumsily scrambled to his feet, cheeks burning.

"Oh, uh..." Alfred chewed his lip, rubbing the back of his neck. He recognised the term "figure skating" now, remembering how his parents would watch such a sport during the Olympics. "I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable, man... honest, I didn't even know what you were doing."

"That's okay, but I'm still leaving." Matthew disconnected from the Bluetooth and hurried back into the locker room, not wanting to talk about this anymore.

"Hey, wait!" Alfred followed him quickly, sliding across the ice in his worn black converse. He sprinted into the locker room. "Matthew, hold on!"

Matthew harshly unlaced his skates, not caring that his fingers were numb. "What is it, Alfred?"

"I'm sorry, okay?" he attempted. "I didn't mean to stare. But you're really good."

"Hardly," Matthew muttered, yanking his skates off. "I'm nothing special."

"Dude, that was amazing, though!" Alfred gushed, unable to control himself. "How long did it take you to learn all that?"

"I've been skating since I was five and figure skating since I was seven. The actual routine took about six months," Matthew sighed, shoving his things into his bag.

"Is it hard?" Alfred trailed into the locker room. "Like, harder than hockey."

"Harder, yes. More fun, also yes. Excuse me." Matthew shouldered his bag and hurried out of the room.

Alfred sighed, before turning back around and following him.

The Canadian continued outside, pulling his phone out and texting his papa for a ride home.

"Matthew, hang on," Alfred begged, sprinting past his friends and skidding up beside him. "I'm sorry for not saying anything..."

"I accept your apology. Why are you still following me?" Matthew snapped softly, not facing him.

"Because I had to get out of the rink too?" He put on his winning smile. "So! Will you teach me?"

"What?" Matthew crossed his arms as he finally turned to look at him. "No."

"Why not?" Alfred inquired, still smiling brightly.

"Because figure skating is hard. It's not like hockey, it's powerful and passionate and beautiful, and I can't teach that to you," Matthew explained coldly.

"Well, you had to learn it from somewhere," Alfred pointed out. "And besides, you could just give me the basics. I'm a pretty good skater. I'm flexible, too."

"If I were to hypothetically give you lessons, what would I hypothetically get from it?" the Canadian asked, raising an eyebrow.

"What? Do you want me to pay you or something?" Alfred shrugged. "I'm kinda broke at the moment... but I do have a job."

"I'm not giving you lessons for free, especially when I have no reason to assume you have natural talent. Where do you work?"

Alfred paused. "I'll tell you, but you've gotta promise not to laugh."

"I won't," Matthew assured, although he wasn't sure if he was refusing to promise or refusing to laugh.

Alfred took it as the latter, and leaned in closer to Matthew, as if about to whisper some big government secret. "Olive Garden."

"Olive Garden," Matthew repeated, considering this. "Okay, I'll cut you a deal. I'll give you lessons on Tuesdays and Thursdays on the condition that you bring dinner, complete with breadsticks and salad or no deal."

Alfred blinked at him. "Seriously? All I have to do is bring you food?" He paused. "I'm guessing you don't plan on buying it, huh?"

"Nope. That's how you're paying for lessons," Matthew decided. "You should feel lucky. I could charge you two hundred dollars for a couple months of lessons instead."

"Hmph, now you're a salesperson," Alfred joked. "Okay. Deal. When do I start?"

"Next Tuesday, after this weekend," the Canadian nodded as his ride pulled up. "Five thirty to seven."

"Cool!" Alfred replied, seeming to bounce on his toes a little. "Hey, can I get your phone number? So you can tell me what you want to eat, and stuff."

Sighing, Matthew found a scrap of paper in his pocket and scribbled out his phone number before handing out to the American. "I have to go now. I'll see you Tuesday."

With that, he climbed into the passenger seat of his father's car.

Alfred waved. "See ya!"

It then occurred to him that he'd left his friends standing at the entrance for quite some time. Laughing to himself, he made his way back.

"What was that all about, Al?" one of his friends asked, raising an eyebrow.

Figuring Matthew wouldn't want him to spread it around (and also not anxious for his friends to know his hobby to be), Alfred brushed it off. "Oh, nothing. Now, are we going, or what?"

"Yeah, come on, let's get there before they close."

"And Ivan is buying!" Alfred teased, nudging his friend playfully as he led the way to the neighbourhood Cold Stone.

He felt oddly giddy, and he wasn't entirely sure why. But he wasn't complaining.

* * *

Matthew was back in his leggings and skates, sitting in the penalty box as he waited for the American to show up.

He wasn't left waiting very long. About ten minutes later, in came a panting Alfred, with his skates, a change of clothes, and a bag that smelt of garlic. "Matt? Where are you?"

"Penalty box," Matthew called. "Did you bring something tasty?"

"I hope you like rigatoni," Alfred replied, making his way over. "With breadsticks and salad, as promised."

"Mmmn, that sounds yummy," Matthew grinned. Now that he wasn't tired and embarrassed, he was in a much better mood. "Okay, so I suggest leaving the pasta for a bit later in the practice, since it's kind of heavy, and starting on the salad, but you know your body better than I do."

Alfred shrugged. "That's yours. I already ate."

Truthfully, he'd used the money for his own dinner to get Matthew's food, figuring he'd grab something when he got home. Though now that he considered it, skating on an empty stomach probably wouldn't be fun.

"This is plenty of food to share," Matthew insisted. "And skating will make you hungry again, so you can eat what you want."

"Mm..." Alfred pursed his lips, not wanting to look like a pig. "Er... maybe I'll just have a breadstick."

Matthew handed him the bag of breadsticks before starting on the salad. He was making a mental checklist of what Alfred needed to know in order to learn the better things.

Quicker than his hunger let him control, Alfred wolfed down a breadstick, before pausing to tilt his head at Matthew. "You're glaring at that salad."

"I'm just trying to think," Matthew explained, taking a bite of the salad. "What tricks do you know? Can you skate backwards? Spin? Jump?"

"Tricks?" Alfred's brow creased as he considered this. "I can do some backwards skating... and, er, spin accidentally?"

"Okay, we've got a long way to go," Matthew sighed. "We'll focus on backwards skating today, and then we'll do spinning on Thursday."

"Hey, ya didn't think I'd know everything, did you?" Alfred inquired with a grin. "I mean, if I could do all that fancy stuff, I wouldn't be coming to you for lessons and paying your wages in pasta."

"I know, it's just been a while since I've had lessons on those," Matthew admitted, setting the salad box down.

"Man, from what I saw, you're pretty freaking good at them anyway," Alfred reminded him.

"Knowing how to do something and how to explain something are two entirely different things," Matthew pointed out, getting to his feet. "Are you ready?"

Nodding, Alfred rose to his feet and brushed off the crumbs from the front of his shirt. "Yep!"

Matthew skilfully skated to the center of the rink. "First thing first. Before we could even think about going backwards, I need to see if you can get rid of the hockey stance. See how my knees aren't bent?"

Alfred observed Matthew's stance and posture, and tried to copy it. He scrunched his nose. "This feels weird."

"Well yeah, but you can't skate all crouched down. It's gonna feel weird, since you're working a whole different set of muscles, but hey," Matthew winked, feeling much more confident on the ice. "That's how you get an ass like mine."

Alfred sneezed, not having expected that from the seemingly shy kid in front of him. "Wha...?"

Not that he was disagreeing. Matthew did have quite the nice ass.

"Now, listen up. Let's do a few laps like this, keep your posture right, and then we can move along."

With that, Matthew took off, skating quickly off to the edge of the rink.

Trying his best to keep the unfamiliar stance, Alfred moved off after Matthew. He felt like a beginner at ice skating again: off balance, unsure, and ready to hug the wall.

Matthew surged along, making sure to exaggerate his movements so Alfred could see the proper technique. "Move with your hips!"

"I feel like Shakira!" Alfred whined, but attempted to do as Matthew instructed. "Like this?"

"Closer, but straighten your knees a bit more," Matthew called. "You're going back to hockey stance."

Scrunching up his brow in concentration, Alfred straightened his legs again. "It's so weird to skate in anything other than hockey stance."

"I know, and it'll leave you sore after a while, too, but it's actually easier once you've got the hang of it," Matthew explained, doing a quick jump before continuing on his lap- only this time, he was facing backwards to examine Alfred's form.

Alfred blinked, quirking an eyebrow. "Am I s'pposed to do that too?"

"Nope, I'm just watching you," Matthew assured with a laugh. He was a bit of an accidental show-off, and being on the ice gave him a lot of confidence.

"Oh." Grinning, he struck a pose. "How do I look?"

Suddenly caught off-balance, he then proceeded to fall on his ass.

"You look like a dork," Matthew giggled, stopping his journey. He skated close to Alfred. "Need a hand?"

"Awh, hell, Matt, let me have my pride," Alfred replied with a winning smile. Trying to sit up, his hand slipped on the ice again, and with a glorious flail, he was back down. He grinned sheepishly at Matthew. "Please."

Laughing good-naturedly, Matthew extended a hand down to the American. "It's like learning to skate all over again, eh?"

Red-faced, Alfred took the offered hand. "You can say that again. I haven't fallen that bad since I first started out."

"It takes practice, that's all," Matthew assured, carefully pulling Alfred back onto his feet. "Don't worry, though. Once you get the basics down, you rarely fall."

"Yeah, that's what they told me when I started hockey," Alfred snickered. "I didn't believe them, either."

"You should know by now that they were right," Matthew pointed out, hands on hips.

"I like to think my unbelievable, overflowing skill kept me from falling."

"Right, right," Matthew snorted. "That's exactly it."

Alfred crossed his arms, quirking an eyebrow. "You know, for whatever reason, I feel like you don't believe me."

"Your 'unbelievable, overflowing skill' just had you fall on your ass doing _forward_ skating," Matthew pointed out, skating away from him backwards. "I think we've got a long way to go."

"Hey, my skill has to test me sometimes!" Alfred quickly skated after him (forward, thanks very much.)

"I don't think that's how it works," Matthew laughed. "You're bending your knees again."

Alfred stuck out his tongue, trying to straighten his knees again. "Don't you tell me how my skill works."

"I can do what I want," Matthew grinned, doing a quick single toe loop for fun.

"What, like show off?" Alfred was grinning, despite his words. The spins and jumps were quite pleasant to watch.

"Exactly. That's why I'm the teacher."

"Okay, fine, Professor Show-Off," Alfred teased. "What now?"

"Now you turn yourself around and try to skate backwards," Matthew decided.

"I'm gonna take a wild guess and say you mean Shakira backwards and not hockey backwards."

"Eh, close enough," Matthew grinned, resting against the wall so he could observe Alfred's attempts.

Alfred knew well enough how to turn around quickly on the ice. He'd learnt this solidly enough in the years he'd been playing hockey.

However, turning _gracefully_ was a different story altogether.

He'd seen how balanced and pretty Matthew's turns were, and his pride- or _something-_ suddenly wouldn't let him simply turn as he knew how.

He could do it.

Brow furrowing in concentration, he tried to mimic what Matthew had done.

This made way for the next major backfire. Not only did he fall, but he ended up in a full split on the ice.

"Are you okay?" Matthew called, hurriedly skating over to him.

Alfred raised his head, and it was clear only his pride had been injured. He remained in the split like he hardly noticed. "Yep."

"Can you get up on your own or would you like help?" Matthew asked, biting back giggles.

"Hey, no need to stomp all over my pride and spit on it." Alfred pushed himself back to his feet, managing to keep steady on the blades. "Kicking it over was plenty."

"Okay, sheesh, just trying to help. Now try again, and maybe try a spin you're familiar with?" Matthew suggested.

"So like… protect-the-goal spin." Alfred demonstrated the far from graceful turn.

"As long as it gets you backwards momentum, go for it," Matthew advised, nodding.

"Okay, sure." Alfred began moving himself backwards. "Now what?"

"Now keep moving backwards," Matthew informed him, beginning to skate backwards as well. "Do the things you would do to skate normally, but in reverse."

"Right." Focusing on straightening his legs, Alfred actually managed to gain excellent momentum.

It carried him straight into the wall.

Laughing, Matthew once again skated up to him. "Maybe we should take a break? You learned quite a bit today."

"Yeah, like how to fall." Alfred picked himself gingerly up off the ice once more. "I don't think I've knocked myself over this much since I was two."

"That's why there isn't a time limit for these lessons," Matthew informed him. "I say let's call it a day, and we can learn some more stuff on Thursday and work you up to the harder stuff."

"What? Like the shit they do on TV?" Alfred grinned. "I can't even tell the difference between some of those jumps and they all have names. And numbers, too, apparently."

"Again, that's what these lessons are for. Come on, let's finish that pasta."

Alfred let himself snort in amusement. "Olive Garden for athletes. At least you guys skate alone. I bet my breath will be great. The other team's goalie can't stand garlic. Maybe these lessons are helpful in more ways than one…"


	2. Chapter 2

Alfred was used to skating one way: hard, fast, and forward.

It was plenty exhausting on its own. He'd often come to school the day after hockey practice feeling sore and tired, but he was always able to keep up his playful exterior and attention in class, to some degree.

Figure skating lessons with Matthew, however, had him going every which way. Literally and figuratively.

In that practice, he was moving his body in ways he'd never had to while ice skating for hockey. And it required so much more thinking. He'd gotten to the point in hockey where he could dedicate most of his brain to keeping an eye on the puck while simply _going_. But when he tried to figure skate, it was like being in the rink for the very first time again. Suddenly, he'd think too much, and lose track of his feet, and fall directly onto his face. Or ass. Or whatever happened to be pointed closest to the ground.

And the _exhaustion_ … his body hurt, his brain hurt, and he couldn't keep his eyes open. Even in study hall, where he was usually very lively, he found himself nodding off.

"What's up, Alfred?" Tino, a Finn, was one of the other members of the hockey team. Despite his aggression on the ice, he was gentle and almost maternal to his teammates outside of the rink. "You're not usually this tired."

"Hmm...?" Alfred forced his eyes back open. "Page fifteen."

"Page fifteen is what's making you tired?" Tino asked, raising an eyebrow.

"What?" Alfred blinked, trying to clear his thoughts. "No, no, it's nothing."

"Are you sick or something, Jones?" Lukas checked, sliding closer to them. Alfred shared his study hall with a good portion of the team, and Lukas was one of their best players.

"I don't get sick," Alfred muttered. "You have so little faith in me, Luke."

"Then what's up?" Tino pressed. "Have a hot date you're not telling us about?"

Alfred spluttered. "No way! I'm just tired, that's all."

"Well, get un-tired," Lukas instructed. "We've got practice tonight, and we can't have you sluggish again."

"The hell do you mean, 'again?'" Alfred stretched. "I've been pretty good lately, I thought."

"You barely got a single shot past Tino all week," Lukas pointed out. "And it's already _Thursday_."

"It's Thursday?" Alfred suddenly looked panicked. "Shit! We have a game tomorrow!"

"Yes, Alfred," Tino nodded patiently, placing a hand over the American's. "It's been Thursday all day, you know... There was even an announcement about the game this morning, remember?"

"No way, Tino." Alfred groaned. "I slept through announcements."

Lukas narrowed his eyes. "Are you sure you're not sick, Jones?" he asked again, clearly not believing him. "You never sleep through announcements, you're too busy bothering Ivan."

"I'm not sick," Alfred insisted, rubbing his eyes. "I didn't sleep great last night."

"You'd better make sure you're rested t'morrow," Berwald spoke up in his deep, heavily accented voice. He always seemed to materialise nearby when he felt needed, which was certainly an asset during games, but served to give Alfred several heart attacks anywhere else.

Alfred sighed. "I'll be fine, guys, seriously. Have I ever let you down?"

"Nei..." Lukas admitted reluctantly. "Not yet, anyway."

"Like I said, so little faith in me," Alfred whined.

"Whatever." Lukas rolled his eyes. "We need to remind the newbie that there's a game tomorrow. Alfred, can you do that?"

"Hell yeah," Alfred replied without thinking. "I'll talk to him when we-"

"When you what?" Tino interrupted curiously, raising an eyebrow.

Instantly realising his mistake, Alfred did his best to correct himself. "When... when we have our next class together."

"Okei," Tino accepted teasingly. "You do that."

Alfred moaned in frustration. "What, Tino?"

"Oh, nothing," Tino giggled, feigning innocence. "It's just that you seem to be spending a lot of time with the newbie."

Alfred lifted his nose defensively. "I dunno what you're talking about."

"You never hang out with us after practice or games anymore," Lukas pointed out, his voice cold. "We've seen the two of you walk away together. Plus, you practically jumped at the chance to talk to the newbie after being lethargic all day."

"So I'm trying to help the guy out," Alfred whined. "Give him a friend. What's it to ya?"

"We just want to know if there's somethin' going on with ya," Berwald explained.

"Yeah, sure," Alfred ground out. "If friendship counts as 'something.'"

"He doesn't seem to want to be friends with us, though," Tino admitted.

"He seems stuck up if you ask me," Lukas grumbled.

"He's _shy_ , guys," Alfred informed them testily. "He probably thinks _you're_ stuck up, Luke."

"I _am_ stuck up, but at least I know that," Lukas snapped. "If he's so shy, why did he pick the loudest, most well-known person on the team to be friends with?"

"He didn't pick me. I approached _him._ I'm the only one who'd talk to him."

"Only because he doesn't talk to anyone else," Tino protested quietly.

"See?" Lukas asked, raising an eyebrow. "Stuck up."

"Shy," Alfred corrected once again, shooting a look at Lukas.

"Whatever," Lukas sighed, rolling his eyes.

"You're so cranky." Alfred elbowed him. "Everyone probably thinks you're the tired one."

"Of course I'm cranky, stupid Matthias spilled my coffee before I could have any," Lukas growled, as if his crankiness was a rare thing.

"Shit, guys," Alfred snorted. "Lukas didn't have coffee."

"Shut up, drittsekk," Lukas snapped.

"Oooh, he's all angry," Tino laughed. "Maybe we should all get coffee after school, or Lukas might reveal his true form."

Lukas glared at him, but he shrugged in favour of the idea. Berwald grunted and nodded.

"Hell yeah," Alfred agreed, though his enthusiasm was dwindled from its usual explosiveness. He'd been looking forward to taking a quick nap after school.

"Great! I'll tell Emil and Matthias; we're in the same lunch period. And someone should see if Gilbert and Ivan are free." Tino smiled innocently. "Oh, and Alfred. You should see if the newbie wants to come."

Against his will, Alfred perked up a bit. "Yeah, sure."

* * *

The end of the day came surprisingly quickly, and as the final bell rang, a lone figure was quick to enter the hallway, anxious to beat the crowd.

Matthew walked stiffly up to his locker, quickly spinning it to the right numbers. He wanted to get his things and get out of the hallway as soon as he could.

So many people were already flooding out of the classrooms, and, without the security of the ice, he felt terribly small.

In his skates, it didn't matter if he didn't know anyone. In school, that was the worst thing he could imagine.

Luckily for him, however, a familiar face was nearby,

"Matt! Hey, Matt!" Alfred shouted, approaching him as quickly as he could so as not to lose him in the crowd.

"Hey, Alfred," Matthew greeted, surprised that the American had gone out of his way to talk to him. "What's up?"

"The guys wanted to know if you were interested in coming with us to get coffee after school?" Alfred grinned. "And... I wanted to make sure we're still on for tonight."

"That's a definite yes to tonight… I'm not sure about the coffee, though," Matthew shrugged.

"How come?" Alfred leaned against the lockers, quirking an eyebrow.

"I kinda don't have any money with me," Matthew admitted, blushing a bit.

"I can cover it for you," Alfred offered. "No sweat. I've got leftover money from work."

For some reason unbeknownst to Matthew, this only made him blush harder. "If you're sure…"

"Hey, am I ever not?" Alfred smirked. "I was sure when I slammed into the wall on Tuesday."

"Alright, then," Matthew laughed softly. "I'll go."

"Awesome!" Alfred grinned. "And I'll see you after hockey tonight."

"You'll also see me _during_ hockey tonight," Matthew reminded him, grinning.

"Yeah, behind a helmet and a mouth guard," Alfred pointed out. "Does that count?"

"Yup," Matthew decided. "It counts. Now, I'd better get going."

"We're meeting at Dunkin' so don't be late!" Alfred joked, smiling.

"I won't," Matthew promised, hurrying off down the hall.

Glancing after him, Alfred couldn't help lowering his eyes a little.

Matthew really did have a _nice_ ass.

* * *

After a quick stop at home to change out of his school clothes, Matthew arrived at the Dunkin' Donuts like he had been told.

Biting back a bit of shyness as he spotted his hockey team through the windows, he walked inside.

"Hey, look, there he is!" Gilbert, one of the other boys on the team, announced as he spotted Matthew. "Finally! I thought I'd have to wait _forever_. What's up, blondie?"

"Eh?" Matthew squeaked, his eyes wide. He wasn't expecting to be talked to by anyone other than Alfred. "N-nothing's up."

Alfred elbowed his friend teasingly. "Sorry, Matt. Gil's loud."

Gilbert scoffed, wrinkling his nose. He didn't need Alfred to apologise for him.

Blushing, Matthew sat next to Alfred. "He just caught me off guard. Sorry to make you wait."

"Hey, man, it's no problem." Alfred pulled a worn black wallet adorned in a peeling superman sticker from his back pocket. "What kind of coffee do you like?"

"I like the original blend with French Vanilla and caramel swirls," Matthew smiled.

"You're buying him coffee?" Lukas asked incredulously.

"Yeah." Alfred lifted an eyebrow at Lukas as he pulled out the money. "I've bought coffee for your brother, too. What's it to ya?"

"Lillebror isn't a newbie," Lukas pointed out, making Matthew blush and lower his eyes.

"So?" Alfred pouted. "The one time I try to be nice, I get yelled at."

"Ignore him," Tino advised. "Lukas, you'll get your coffee soon, so stop bitching, okei?"

From Lukas's other side, Matthias snorted. "Y'know, Tino, for looking so cute and sweet, you've got quite the 'tude."

"I know," Tino replied simply, causing a ripple of laughter around the table.

As it died down, Matthias spoke up again: "So, um, by the way. I'm not gonna make it to practice tonight. We have a swim meet I didn't know about till earlier."

"You can't just not practice tonight," Lukas growled, glaring at him. "We've got a game tomorrow."

"Which I'll be ready for," Matthias insisted. "I've been skipping out on swimming a lot for hockey and the coach ain't too happy with me."

" _I'm_ not too happy with you," Lukas snapped, scowling at the table. He'd spent a lot of unnecessary effort convincing himself that this anger simply stemmed from his worry for the game, and not because he wanted to spend more time with the Dane.

"Awh, Luke, it'll be fine," Matthias promised, blaming his friend's upset on worry for their team's success. "I'm in good shape!"

"Just don't drown yourself," the Norwegian huffed as Berwald brought everyone their drinks.

"Come on, Luke," Matthias laughed, poking him in the shoulder as he took his coffee. "Do I ever?"

"Not yet." Lukas took a long drink of his coffee.

Matthew happily took his coffee, breathing in the warm scent of the caramel and vanilla.

"Unless he's referring to his ego," Emil finally spoke up. "Then he drowns every day."

"Lukas, your brother is flirting with me," Matthias teased.

"Shut the hell up, Matthias," Emil grumbled.

"Both of you, shut up," Lukas replied boredly. "Lillebror, stop flirting, Matthias, stop being an ass."

Emil went red. "I don't flirt!"

"I'm not an ass." Matthias winked. "I have a nice one, though."

"One of those things is true," Lukas allowed.

"Yeah, and Emil, I totally saw you and Leon 'not-flirting' in the hallway," Tino teased.

If possible, Emil's blush deepened. "Leon who?"

"I don't know his last name, the Chinese one," Tino described. "You looked like you _really_ enjoyed the not-flirting."

"I was not," Emil growled. "Drop it."

"Oooh, so you were," Tino giggled. "You're not fooling anybody."

"Shut up, Tino." Emil was glaring at his coffee.

Alfred grinned at Matthew. "Welcome to the team, off the ice."

"It seems fun," Matthew giggled. "Are we all gay?"

Alfred snorted. "Probably." He turned his gaze teasingly toward Emil. "Though some of us are still in the closet."

"Shut the fuck up, Alfred," Emil snapped.

"Lillebror, if you have a boyfriend, you have to tell me so I can kill him," Lukas informed him.

"Okay," Emil grumbled. "Well I guess it's good I don't, then. I'm not gay."

"Oh." Matthias leaned in closer to him. "So you're a lesbian with a dick?"

"Shut up, Matthias," Lukas warned. "Or you'll be a gay boy without a dick."

"Guys guys guys!" Matthias laughed, loudly. "Lukas wants my dick!"

"Shut up," Lukas snapped, scowling into his coffee.

"Oh, what's this?" Matthias leaned on Lukas teasingly. "I didn't hear a denial."

"I said shut up!" Lukas hissed, his cheeks betraying the slightest bit of pink.

Alfred grinned at Matthew over the rim of his cup. "See what I have to deal with?"

"It doesn't seem too bad," Matthew admitted, sipping his coffee.

"It's actually pretty funny to watch," Alfred replied, crossing his legs. "Especially since they're all closet cases."

"And you?" Matthew asked curiously. "Are you a closet case?"

Alfred choked on his coffee.

Matthew laughed a little, slapping the American's back to dislodge the coffee. "Is that a yes?"

Spluttering, Alfred tried to regain composure. "Why?"

"I'm just curious," Matthew explained honestly.

"Curious as to my sexuality, or yours?" Alfred attempted to joke.

"I know my sexuality," Matthew assured him. "You're a bit harder to figure out."

"You've been trying to figure it out?" Alfred felt he was doing a spectacular job skirting around an actual answer.

"A little," Matthew mumbled, feeling a little embarrassed.

Alfred shrugged. "I dunno. Never actually given it a name."

"Well, who do you like?" Matthew asked, raising an eyebrow.

Alfred swirled his cup. "Are you asking for a gender, or a specific person?"

"Either," Matthew shrugged. He blushed when he realized that nearly the whole table was watching their conversation.

"I really don't get a lot of crushes," Alfred admitted.

"Awwh, our Alfie's so innocent," Tino teased.

"Define innocent," Alfred laughed, turning to Tino.

"Well," Tino began. "Have you ever even kissed anybody?"

"Yeah!" Alfred replied immediately, before pausing. "My dog."

"Didn' know you were into that," Berwald monotoned.

"Not like that!" Alfred snickered.

"That doesn't count," Lukas informed him. "Have you kissed a _person_ before?"

"If I say my mom, will you ask me if I'm into that too?"

"Yes," was the unanimous response.

Alfred turned his gaze back to his coffee. "Then I guess not."

"That's just sad," Lukas informed him. "Even Matthias has kissed someone, and Matthias is an overgrown child."

"Yeah. I bet he sprinted up, kissed them, and then giggled and ran off." Alfred rolled his eyes. "I'm just... waiting for the right moment, I guess."

Matthew took this in with a bit of disappointment. He didn't know exactly why, but he was disappointed that he still didn't know what Alfred's sexuality was.

"Why am I getting interrogated now, of all times?" Alfred grinned, setting his cup down. "Emil does something super gay, and _I'm_ the one who tips your gay-dars?"

"We already teased Emil," Tino giggled. "And who else is there to tease?"

"Literally anyone. Matthias. Matthias is gay."

"Lukas teases him enough for all of us," Tino argued. "It's no fun."

"Yeah, but he's gayer than me," Alfred protested. "Come on, work with me here."

"Fine," Tino sighed good-naturedly. "But I'll get you one day."

"You wish," Alfred grinned, finishing his coffee. "But you have no proof of anything."

"That's what you think," Tino laughed, winking.

"Tino," Alfred gasped overly dramatically, "are you flirting with me?"

"He's mine," Berwald informed him warningly, wrapping an arm around the Finn's shoulders.

"Hey, chill, man," Alfred grinned, making sure Berwald understood. "I was joking."

Gilbert flicked a loose straw paper at Alfred. "See how open they are about it?"

"Shut up."

Matthew checked his watch, his brows raising. "Isn't there practice at four? Because it's already ten til."

Gilbert checked his own watch, and let out a manly squeak. "Shit! We gotta go, guys!"

Tino jumped up, pulling Berwald up with him. "Guess we'll see you then."

Lukas stood before turning to Emil. "Do you have a ride, Lillebror?"

"Do you have to keep calling me that?" Emil mumbled. "We're in public."

"Yes," Lukas replied simply. "Do you need a ride or not?"

"Fine." Emil stepped closer, keeping his eyes down as if he wished he could disappear.

Nodding, Lukas led his brother out the door after Berwald and Tino.

Matthew stood and slipped his jacket on with a bit of hesitation. He didn't want to be late to practice, but he wished he could have spent more time with Alfred.

Alfred tossed his empty cup at the garbage bin like a basketball player. He missed gloriously. "Come on, Matt, let's go! Need a ride?"

"Yes, please," Matthew nodded, smiling a little. "I walked here, but the school is further away."

Alfred grinned. "Cool! My car's the blue one just outside. I left it unlocked. I'll be right out, 'kay?"

"Okay," Matthew nodded, heading outside. He quickly located the blue car and climbed into it.

About two minutes later, Alfred joined him, a paper bag in one hand. He was feeling much more awake thanks to the caffeine. "I grabbed dessert for after our practice tonight. Hope you like doughnuts."

"I love doughnuts," Matthew assured, grinning at him. "I was thinking that we could try some jumps tonight."

Alfred blinked in surprise as he started the car. "Seriously? Jumps? Like, those spinny ones?"

"Eventually," Matthew laughed. "We'll start with easy ones."

"Are there any easy ones?" Alfred inquired as he turned the keys. "I mean, I see you do it and I fall mentally."

"Once you get the hang of it, it's just like jumping on solid ground," Matthew promised. "And I'll make sure you've got the hang of it."

"Yeah, like you made sure I got the hang of skating on one foot on Tuesday," Alfred snorted, pulling out of the parking lot. "Didn't you say you took pictures?"

"I did, and I plan on using them if you cross me," Matthew warned playfully. "But I really will be more careful with the jumps. This is how a lot of accidents happen, and I don't want you getting hurt."

"You think I'm gonna let myself get hurt?" Alfred laughed out loud. "My skill prevents such things!" He pumped his fist, and ended up punching the ceiling of the car. "Owww!"

"You can only rely on caffeine-fueled focus for so long," Matthew pointed out, giggling. "Eventually you'll need to actually sleep."

"Hey, I sleep," Alfred protested. "I totally sleep. Mostly in chemistry class, but I get sleep."

"I'm serious, Alfred," Matthew insisted. "If you're trying to figure skate without actually giving your body rest, you will snap. Just like with hockey."

"I'll snap the other opponents' necks!" Alfred grinned, before pausing. "You guys compete, right?"

"Not like that," Matthew laughed. "It's individual competition. You do a routine, like the one you saw me doing, and then you're scored based on that."

"Ohhh..." Alfred tried to imagine this. "Have you competed?"

"A couple times," Matthew shrugged. "I haven't since I moved, though."

"What's it like?" Alfred asked curiously. "Does the crowd cheer like hockey?"

"It's dead silent while you're skating," Matthew described. "All you hear is the music and the click of your skates. Afterwards, though, you can barely hear yourself think, it's so loud."

"That sounds... really suspenseful," Alfred remarked honestly, pulling into the school parking lot. "Is it cool?"

"It's very cool. It's _ice_ cool," Matthew joked, unbuckling his seatbelt.

Alfred's mouth dropped open. "Oh my god. You're a pun maker too?"

"Maybe," Matthew winked, climbing out of the car.

Alfred climbed out as well, kicking the door closed behind him. "Well played, sir."

"C'mon," Matthew grinned, bouncing on his toes. "We've gotta go before we're late!"

"Right!" Alfred pressed a button on the keys. "Just let me grab my bag."

"Okay," Matthew nodded, shouldering his own bag.

As he fetched his bag from the truck, Alfred stifled a yawn. He was already losing his spurt of energy from the caffeine. This would be an interesting practice.

* * *

After a long, sweaty hockey practice, Matthew was relieved to shed his heavy pads and change into his leggings and tee shirt. He laced his personal skates, keeping an eye on Alfred. "Are you ready?"

"Hell yeah," Alfred replied, approaching him. He'd changed into a sweatshirt and matching sweatpants.

"Let's get going, then," Matthew grinned, heading out onto the ice.

Alfred followed him, biting back another yawn. He'd been a disaster in hockey practice, slamming Emil into the wall and scoring in the wrong goal.

"To warm up your figure skating muscles, we're going to do three laps around the rink," Matthew informed him. "After that, we'll start jumping."

"Shakira skating followed by jumping," Alfred remarked, grinning. "Sounds like a plan."

Matthew grinned and took off like a shot. He raced around the rink, feeling power surge through his muscles.

Alfred snorted. "Damn, Matt, you running away from me?"

"Maybe I'm skating right towards your slow ass," Matthew called, already halfway around the rink.

"Excuse me if some of us don't have muscly asses," Alfred shouted back, beginning to gain some forward momentum.

"I can't help it if your soft ass is slow," Matthew laughed, whipping through a corner.

"Hey, for your information, my ass is totally not soft."

"Bet it is," Matthew shot back, quickly passing him.

"Is not!" Alfred chased after him, blinking furiously to keep alert.

"Well, we'll just have to see," Matthew grinned.

"The hell does that mean?" Alfred inquired teasingly, skating up beside him, his atrocious posture revealing itself.

"Well, there's the fact that your soft ass is sticking out," Matthew pointed out. "Straighten your legs!"

Alfred groaned, trying to straighten his legs. They were rather sore, but he tried not to let it show on his face.

"That's better," Matthew praised, speeding up again as his muscles got warm and loose.

Alfred couldn't help a wince as he pulled his butt in, the muscles in the area protesting nicely. He stifled another yawn, trying to keep up with Matthew.

Matthew did a quick, simple jump, grinning at the satisfying clicks his skates made.

Alfred watched the jump with his almost-beginner's level of amazement. "Is that what I'm gonna have to do?"

"Yup," Matthew nodded. "It's in the ankles. Push down and spring up with your ankles."

"Whoa, I'm doing it right now?" Alfred looked ever so slightly alarmed.

"Yeah, try it," Matthew suggested. "This is the easiest jump, so you'll be able to use this to learn the other stuff."

"So just... jump forward?" Alfred chewed at his lip. He could feel his exhaustion nipping at him.

"Yup," Matthew confirmed. "Get up a bit of momentum and go for it."

Taking a deep breath, Alfred attempted to go for it.

Attempted.

Exhaustion, ache, and inability to focus made it impossible for him to even see his skates. A sudden wave of dizziness hit him just as he was about to jump.

Before he knew it, he was lying on the ice, face first.

"Shit!" Matthew swore, hurrying over to him. He crouched next to him. "Are you okay?"

"Ughh..." Alfred mumbled. He tried to lift his head, and made visible the blood smeared on the ice.

"Oh god," Matthew breathed, turning him over. "Come on, Al, let's get off the ice..."

"What? Why?" Alfred sniffed loudly. "I think my nose is running..."

"Your nose is _bleeding_ , Alfred," Matthew informed him, gently sliding him to the door off the ice.

"Dude, what're you..." Alfred blinked, wiping at his upper lip and smearing his sleeve. "I can walk."

"You fell hard, mon tabarnak d'innocent, I've got to check you for a concussion," Matthew explained. He took his and Alfred's skates off and pulled the other boy to his feet once they were on the concrete.

Alfred's legs shook, and he found himself leaning on Matthew for support. "I hit my head?"

"Your nose bleeding everywhere generally means that you hit your head," Matthew sighed. He pulled a pack of tissues out of his bag and held one to Alfred's nose.

Alfred flinched, letting out a hiss as Matthew pressed the tissue to his nose. "Chill, it's not gonna fall off..."

"Why didn't you tell me you were tired?" Matthew demanded, leading him to a bench. He sat him down and pointed a finger in Alfred's face. "Follow my finger."

Alfred moved his eyes after Matthew's finger. "'Cause I wanted to skate."

"I told you earlier," Matthew scolded, sitting next to him. "You can not figure skate if you aren't paying attention!"

"But I really like these lessons," Alfred protested, sniffing again. His hands were still shaky with adrenaline from the fall.

"Stop doing that," Matthew instructed, pressing a fresh tissue to Alfred's nose. "I love these lessons, and I don't want you hurting yourself and making yourself unable to do them."

"I'm not," Alfred whined. "It's just a nosebleed..."

"It could have been worse, you know," Matthew pointed out, his eyes full of concern. "I think you should take tonight off..."

Alfred looked almost devastated. "What about jumping?"

"We can do that next week," Matthew promised. "You just need to rest."

"No, I'm fine," Alfred protested. "I'm fine. Once my nose stops bleeding, I can get back out there."

"I'm the teacher, aren't I?" Matthew asked. "No figure skating until you've had at least twelve hours of sleep."

"Matt..." Alfred's shoulders slumped. "I just wanna learn this... I've been watching figure skating videos and... I dunno..."

Matthew wrapped an arm around his shoulders. "I'll tell you what. Let's eat those doughnuts, and we'll see how it goes after that."

Alfred gave a reluctant nod, before sniffing and snorting again. "Okay. Yeah. They're in my bag. You can have first pick."

"Okay," Matthew nodded, handing him the tissues. He went back into the locker room and grabbed Alfred's bag. Smiling triumphantly, he brought the doughnuts back to the blond.

Alfred chuckled softly as Matthew rejoined him. "I don't even remember what I got."

"Well, let's see," Matthew grinned, opening the bag. His eyes lit up when he saw one of the doughnuts. "You got maple!"

Alfred couldn't help a laugh. "I was afraid you'd be offended. But I remember grabbing one of those, just in case."

"Maple is my favorite," Matthew admitted, pulling out the treasured doughnut. "When I was little, I used to drink maple syrup until my papa caught me, took pictures, and explained how unhealthy that was."

"You are _such_ a Canadian it's not even funny." Alfred grinned, before pulling the tissue back from his nose. "Did it stop bleeding yet?"

"Mostly," Matthew shrugged, examining his nose as he took a bite of his doughnut. "It's going to bruise, though. Your forehead, too, probably."

"Lovely." Alfred touched his forehead. "When can we start practicing again?"

"When you eat your doughnuts," Matthew decided, passing him the bag.

As Alfred fished for his doughnut, the rustling of the bag masked the sound of running footsteps near the entrance.

Emil Bondevik, who had ducked back into the rink to text Leon, was sprinting back out the door, wide-eyed.

He wasn't entirely sure what he'd witnessed, but he knew he needed to talk to Lukas. Lukas would know what to do.

* * *

 **(A/n)**

 **Because we are actually a broken record, we must apologize for the length of time it took to get this second part of this story out.**

 **To be fair, it has been sitting in the Google Docs cloud waiting and waiting for Paris to approve the edits Moose made, so don't shoot us XD. (Though Paris is very sorry for being nitpicky and excruciatingly slow.)**

 **It should also be noted that Berwald's accent was thought over more than any other edit, as it was edited twice by Moose. This is all for you, dear readers, as we love you.**

 **This is all we can think of, so enjoy the second third of this story.**

 **Your friends,**

 **Paris and Moose**


	3. Chapter 3

"Lukas!"

Breathless, Emil sprinted from the building, glancing around rapidly for his brother's car. He hastily wiped his sweaty palms on his jeans as he caught his breath near the entrance and tried to spot Lukas.

Whatever he'd just seen... he had no idea what to make of it. But surely it was why Alfred had been so battered and tired lately.

Finally, he spotted a familiar vehicle parked near the end of the lot, and took off toward it, the heels of his tall white boots clacking on the pavement.

"Lukas?"

Lukas caught him by the shoulders, concern in his eyes as he met Emil's. "What's wrong? Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, I'm fine," Emil panted. "But something just happened, and I'm not sure what to think..."

"Everything okay?" Matthias stuck his head out of the window of the driver's seat. He'd come to pick Lukas and Emil up from the hockey practice he'd missed in favour of practice for his swim meet, and his lengthy hair was flat and still dripping.

"I don't know," Lukas called back to him, leading Emil to the nearby bench. He waved Tino and Berwald over from where they had been making out near Berwald's car. "Okay, Emil. Spill."

Matthias joined them a moment later, and Emil took that as his cue.

"Alfred. And Matthew."

"Doing...?"

"Skating."

"Like, practicing?" Tino asked, raising an eyebrow. "I don't see why this needed a group meeting."

"No, this was different. It wasn't hockey practice, they were doing something else... why can't I remember what it's called? It looked like Matthew was coaching Alfred, and they were talking about jumps."

"Jumps in skating?" Lukas asked. "Sounds like figure skating. So the newbie has been tiring out our best player with figure skating?"

"Yes, that's what it looks like." Emil nodded.

"Maybe they're just playing around?" Tino suggested optimistically. "We probably shouldn't jump to conclusions..."

"But this has been going on for weeks!" Matthias spoke up. "And you saw what it did to Al during practice. He nearly murdered Emil against that wall."

"There's... something else," Emil informed them.

"Oh?" Lukas asked, raising an eyebrow.

Emil nodded again. "It seems like they might like each other."

The group shared a look, but it was Berwald who broke the silence.

"No shit."

Emil blinked. "H-huh?"

"Alfred isn't exactly subtle about staring at Matthew's ass," Tino pointed out, gently placing his hand on Emil's arm.

"But I..." Emil went red. "You're telling me you all knew?"

All four of them nodded.

Embarrassed, Emil lowered his eyes and scrunched his shoulders.

"Don't be embarrassed. We didn't know that the newbie was using him," Lukas informed him, glowering.

"Using him?"

"Matthew was a big deal on his own team," Tino explained, looking to Lukas to see if he was reading the situation right. "If he distracts Alfred, that gives him a better chance at being a big deal on this team."

"You really think he would do something like that? He seems too... polite."

"It's possible."

Matthias had been uncharacteristically silent up until that point. He spoke up then: "So... what are we gonna do?"

"If the newbie thinks he can take Alfred's place, let's shut him out," Lukas decided. "Let the rest of the team know. From now on, we don't talk to him unless it's necessary for a game. And, I think it goes without saying that we can not have them dating. We make it clear to Alfred that we disapprove, and we convince him to stay away from the newbie."

Emil bit his lip uncomfortably. "Isn't that kind of mean?"

"Isn't it meaner if Matthew is sabotaging Alfred's career?" Tino asked.

"I mean... I guess..."

"We should do it," Berwald decided. His low voice determined the vote for the rest of the Scandinavians.

Matthias nodded. "I think so too."

"Then we shall. Starting tomorrow at school."

All of them shared a nod, even Emil, though his was reluctant.

* * *

A little more than a week went by.

Matthew slid next to Alfred on the bench outside, just after school had let out. "Got a minute?"

"Sure thing." Alfred scooted over, making room. "What's up?"

"Have the guys on the team been acting... weird lately?"

"Hmm... well, I guess now that you mention it, they've been a little strange. A bit more distant, right?"

"They haven't spoken to me in a week. Hell, I don't think they've looked at me in a week. Did I do something wrong?"

"No way. I have no clue what they're pissy about. Want me to talk to them?"

"If it wouldn't be an inconvenience..." Matthew sighed, pulling his jacket tighter around himself, warding off the chills of autumn wind and insecurity. "I thought I was doing so well..."

"You were. Literally, it seems like they're all on their man periods or something."

"Well, find out what I can do to help. Are we still on for lessons tonight?"

"Duh! I've been looking forward to it _forever_."

Matthew's face lit up. "I'm so excited. You've learned the basics really well, so I'm going to start you on a simple routine."

Alfred's eyes widened. "What? Seriously? But I keep falling."

"You know the techniques. Once you put them together, it's easier to not fall," Matthew informed him.

"Wow... my own routine. Do I get to pick music?"

"You want me to choreograph a whole new routine in addition to teaching it to you?" the Canadian scoffed. "No. You're learning one I already choreographed."

Alfred snorted. "Good point. Okay, you're the boss."

"Yes, yes I am," Matthew grinned. He handed him a couple crumpled dollars from his hoodie pocket. "Go get a gatorade. You're going to want the electrolytes for tonight."

"'Kay." Grinning, Alfred stood. "Want anything?"

"Anything with caffeine. Being ignored takes a lot out of me," Matthew joked, running a hand through his bangs.

"Caffeine it is," Alfred snickered. "Any preference?"

"Dr. Pepper," Matthew requested. "Pepsi will also be acceptable if the former is unavailable."

"You got it." Alfred paused, playfully sheepish. "What if they don't have either of those?"

"Coke or Mountain Dew, in that order," Matthew laughed. "If neither of those are available, then don't worry about it."

"Sure thing!" Alfred bounded off, and returned a minute or two later with a red Gatorade and a Dr. Pepper.

"I totally forgot the order of the other shit you mentioned. But they had Dr. Pepper, so I guess it didn't really matter."

Matthew grinned at him. He blushed when their fingers brushed against each other while he took the drink.

Alfred couldn't hide his own blush; despite his desperation to keep it to himself, he could feel his cheeks tingling with heat. "So when should we meet up? Want me to bring dinner again?"

"Same time, and yes please," Matthew nodded, shyly sipping his drink.

"Yes, sir! What's your order for dinner?"

"Surprise me," Matthew giggled. "Get me your favorite."

"Ah, shit, I have so many favourites, though," Alfred pouted.

"What would you get someone on a date?" Matthew asked before realizing what he'd asked.

Alfred blinked in surprise. "Umm... probably fancy pasta or something?"

"That sounds good... How many dates have you been on?"

"Exactly zero."

Something in Matthew soared. "Me neither."

"Really? With that ass?" Alfred blurted out.

Matthew's face burned bright red as he shifted on his attractive ass. "Y-yeah..."

Alfred was also blushing deeply by that point. "Ah... dunno why I said that." He rubbed the back of his neck. "Sorry."

"No, it's... it's okay," Matthew stammered. "I don't mind..."

The embarrassment was nearly tangible. Alfred chewed his lip. "Really?"

"Really. It's a nice change from silence, y'know?"

"Yeah... I guess I can understand that," Alfred chuckled.

Matthew took a long drink, wondering anxiously if his heartbeat was visible through his shirt.

Not particularly wanting to fill the lapse in conversation either, Alfred sipped at his own drink, his heart pounding pretty impressively as well.

A familiar blonde passed them.

The Canadian suddenly looked up and waved, thankful for the distraction. "Hey, Matthias!"

Matthias paused momentarily. It was getting difficult to ignore him. Emil was right, he seemed very nice. But after a moment to take a deep breath and compose himself, he turned away and kept on walking.

Matthew's face fell, though he was not exactly surprised. This had been happening all week. "Oh..."

Alfred thought he felt his heart crack a little. "I'm going to go talk to him and the rest of the guys, okay?"

"Okay. I'll meet you on the ice if it takes a while," Matthew murmured, trying (and failing) not to let his face show his hurt.

"I'll get there early," Alfred promised. Before he could change his mind, he reached out to give Matthew's shoulder a comforting squeeze, causing the Canadian to blush once more, before dashing off in the direction Matthias had gone.

Rounding a sharp corner, Alfred spotted Matthias, Lukas, and Tino, all gathered beside Matthias's car and talking.

He quickly approached, not wanting them to disperse. "Guys?"

The three of them shared a look before Lukas stepped out to talk to him.

"Yes?"

"Hey," Alfred greeted, voice dripping with passive-aggression. "Did Matthew do something to piss you guys off? Or are you on man periods or something?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

Alfred's eyes narrowed. "Um... I'm pretty sure you do."

"We apologize that we don't mesh with the newbie," Lukas offered flatly. "However, it isn't our fault if we don't get along. After all, isn't he used to being a big deal on a hockey team?"

Eyebrows drawing together, Alfred blinked at him. "What are you talking about?"

"We just think he needs more time to be new before he can be a big shot like you," Tino supplied.

"The hell is that supposed to mean? He's not trying to be a big shot."

"Don't get all worked up, we're just saying that we don't know if he knows where he stands."

"Where he stands? Oh, so we're a hierarchy, now? I thought we were a team."

"We are a team, but also a hierarchy. He is essentially a freshman. How often do you talk to freshmen?" Tino asked, his eyes glancing to Lukas once again, who supplied a short nod.

"Tino, you sound ridiculous! What are you even saying? What's all this 'higher than thou' bullshit? We should be welcoming him. He shouldn't want to quit after one season because he thinks you all hate him!"

"We only hate him because he's using you!" Tino blurted out.

Alfred thought his jaw might hit the pavement. "Using me?"

After a glare from Lukas, Tino stepped back and let him take over, knowing that he had failed at the subtley part of the plan.

"He's throwing you off your game. He's tiring you out so when scouts come see the games, they pass over you and notice him. He's even flirting with you so you don't notice."

Alfred crossed his arms, feeling defensive anger bubble to the surface. "And how the fuck did you come to this conclusion without asking either of us?"

"We know about the figure skating."

"What? How?"

"We saw."

"But _how_? You were all literally gone. We checked."

"Not all of us were gone, and that's not important. What is important is that the newbie is using you, and we won't stand for it."

"Luke, I wanted the lessons! I begged for them! And I love them!"

"Why, man? They're fucking with your hockey," Matthias pointed out, echoing the Norwegian's earlier sentiments. "It's not like you're gonna get a scholarship for twirling good or something."

"God forbid I do something I enjoy, now? Jesus shit, guys. This is kinda shitty of you."

"We're just trying to look after you," Tino protested, his cheeks coloring guiltily.

"Sure you are. So the first thing that makes me happy outside of hockey is immediately a distraction, right?"

"You did kinda clobber Emil," Tino pointed out slowly, as if speaking to an animal that might attack. "And you didn't score in the last game."

"So? I'm learning how to balance everything. We still won. And Emil was fine."

"I don't understand why you don't see this is an issue," Lukas glowered. "Whether you see it or not, the newbie is sabotaging your hopes for a future with hockey."

"But it's not your job to take care of that for me," Alfred snapped. "You aren't in charge of my future."

"Fine," Lukas snapped back. "Let yourself get distracted by a huge ass in a sparkly outfit while he steals everything from you. See if we come help you rebuild your life after he ruins it."

Alfred huffed. "How is this being fair? Matt's been with us literally one season. Were we this shitty to Emil when he first joined?"

"Emil didn't distract the best player on the team."

"At the time, that was _you_ ," Alfred pointed out, hands on his hips. "And if I remember right, he was pretty distracting. Every time he fell, or got hit, you dropped everything."

"And what do you do now? You spend more time making googoo eyes at the newbie than you do actually practicing."

"I'm the only one who will talk to the guy! He's been nothing but nice to you guys, and you've all decided he's diseased."

"Prove us wrong." Lukas crossed his arms. "Prove to us that he's not a distraction to you."

"How do you want that done, King Lukas?"

"Cut back on the lessons until your performance on the team doesn't suffer from it."

"Better idea. How 'bout I do both awesomely, and if I manage to score more than twice in the next game, you lay off of Matthew?"

"Done." Lukas held out his hand, an eyebrow raised almost daringly.

Alfred's palm slapped against Lukas's, his fingers curling testily around the smaller ones.

Lukas shook his hand. "Go on. I'm sure the newbie is waiting for you."

Alfred let go, and turned on his heel. "His name is Matthew."

"I know." Lukas returned to the group, no expression left on his face.

Though he wasn't anxious to let Lukas have the last word, Alfred was more worried about returning to Matthew.

It wasn't until halfway back that he wondered what the fuck he'd just agreed to.

He was going to have to snap himself awake enough to score more than twice in the next game. He hated to admit it, but that was much easier said than done.

Feeling a bit defeated, he sunk onto the bench, and Matthew gently placed a hand on Alfred's back. "Everything okay?"

"Well, I may've just screwed myself over..."

"You didn't have to do that," Matthew sighed guiltily, standing. "Tell you what. You don't work this afternoon, right? Let's go to the rink early, and we can talk then. Might help get the negativity out."

Taking a deep breath, Alfred nodded. "Yeah. That sounds great, honestly."

Matthew shouldered his bag, extending a hand to Alfred. "Let's go, then."

A tiny part of Alfred's mind was admittedly worried about what the Lukas, Tino, and Matthias had said. After defending Matthew so adamantly, what if it turned out he was wrong about him?

After only a moment's hesitation, however, Alfred decided that was a risk he was willing to take.

He took Matthew's hand.

Matthew pulled him to his feet, but he didn't let go. He liked the feeling of the American boy's thicker fingers around his.

Alfred blushed a little when Matthew didn't release his gentle hold. "Ready?"

"Ready," Matthew nodded. He led him to the entrance of the rink, trying not to mirror the blush.

"So... what's this routine like?" Alfred asked, desperate to break the silence.

"A bunch of skating on one foot, spins, and small jumps, but nothing terribly complicated," Matthew promised. "It's even fast-paced, so you don't have to worry too much about keeping forms for a long time. Let me connect to the speakers, and I'll demonstrate."

"Awesome! I'll be in the penalty box."

As Matthew pulled his skates on, he felt his confidence returning. He turned on the music, and hit the ice with incredible power.

That entrance was more than enough to get Alfred's head spinning. There was no way he could replicate that.

Matthew completed the entire routine before realizing that he hadn't even bothered to change out of his jeans and hoodie.

Panting, he skated to the penalty box to talk to Alfred and pulled the hoodie off, exposing his red and white tank top.

Alfred tossed him a water bottle from his bag. "Whoa."

"Ready to learn?" Matthew asked, sipping the water. "Or just warm up and talk for a bit?"

"I definitely need to warm up if you think I'm gonna do _that_."

"Remember, I'm an experienced skater," Matthew pointed out, leading him onto the ice. "Everything I just demonstrated is something you have learned from the lessons."

"Yeah, but... still. I feel like I'm gonna forget everything."

"You're not gonna have to work on it from memory right away," Matthew reminded him, beginning to skate around the rink. "I'm going to teach you each step, and you don't have to worry about impressing anyone but me."

Alfred took a deep breath, psyching himself up. "Okay. Let's do this thing."

"Skate around with me," Matthew instructed.

"Sure," Alfred smiled, his usual spark reappearing in his eyes. "Shakira skating, here we come!"

Matthew rolled his eyes, flicking his ankles into a jump. "So, did you figure out why I'm suddenly invisible?"

"Right..." Alfred sighed. "The guys jumped to some stupid conclusion."

"So it was something I did," Matthew sighed, spinning to counteract his disappointment.

"No, it was me. They decided that these lessons- which I pestered and begged for- are you trying to distract me so my hockey suffers. Apparently they think you're out to get my position on the team, or something."

Matthew scowled. "Seriously? I come across as that manipulative?"

"Uh, not really. They're being paranoid or something. No clue what's going on with them."

"So what are we going to do? Should we stop the lessons? Should I quit the team? I don't want to be ignored for something I didn't do."

"No, you're not gonna quit, and there's no way I want to stop the lessons. I just havta prove they're not interfering with my hockey, y'know? Lukas said if I score more than twice in the next game, they'll stop acting like assholes."

"More than twice? Alfred, that's an impossible goal to promise. What if you don't?"

"I dunno... it slipped out, and it sounded good at the time..."

"If you don't, I'll quit the team," Matthew decided, though his heart hurt to say it. "I'm not willing to be the factor that makes you end your friendships with so many people."

"No, don't quit!" Alfred begged, hasty as he realised how serious Matthew sounded. "Please?"

"I don't know what the hell else to do," Matthew sighed, pulling to an angry stop. "I'm not going to force you to end these lessons, and it's clear that they don't want me on the team if I'm tutoring you."

Alfred clumsily drifted to a stop beside him. "I say they can go suck a bag. We're supposed to be a team, and a team means everyone. Quitting isn't gonna solve anything. I'll show 'em next game, and everything's gonna be fine."

"If you say so..." Matthew took a deep breath, composing himself. "Okay. No more fucking around. Learning starts now."

* * *

"Hei, Tino," Lukas greeted, approaching the Finn's locker with his backpack and keys. "Ready to go? I'm buying."

"Yeah, I'm ready," Tino nodded, shutting his locker as he turned to his best friend. "I need some coffee like you wouldn't believe."

"Then you understand my urgency, because so do I. Let's go."

Tino followed him out to the car, looking around at all the pretty autumn leaves.

"Where do you want to go?" Lukas climbed into the car and inserted the key.

"The Starbucks on the corner. I don't plan on staying very long." It was clear that Tino's mind was elsewhere.

Lukas tilted his head a little as he buckled in. "Are you okay?"

Tino sighed, deciding not to beat around the bush. "Are we being jerks?"

Lukas blinked, not expecting that question. "What do you mean?"

"We're judging Matthew pretty harshly... Are we doing the right thing?"

Lukas bit his lip. "It's for the good of the team, yes?"

"See, I'm not sure," Tino admitted, looking at his hands. "It seems to be causing a rift."

Lukas navigated out of the parking lot. "A rift?"

"Well, yeah," Tino nodded. "We're not talking to Matthew, Alfred is angry at us... And Ber and I were thinking about stopping the silent treatment."

"You were?" Lukas's voice had dropped a little, as if weighed down by his own guilt.

"It's just... Did you see Matthew earlier? He looked like he was gonna cry," Tino recalled, his own guilt evident in his face. "And Alfred said Matthew might quit, and you have to admit what a loss that would be to the team..."

"I know," Lukas admitted slowly. "He really is a great player..."

"Call off this stupid bet with Alfred, please?" Tino begged, a twinge of desperation in his eyes.

"Well... the game is tomorrow. I still want him to be prepared..."

"Fine." Tino sighed, looking out the window. "I don't think this is right."

Lukas let out a soft sigh of his own, knowing that he had upset the Finn. "I won't hold him to it, then."

"What does Matthias think?" Tino asked curiously. "Have you asked him about it?"

"Not really," Lukas admitted, glancing out the window. "We haven't really talked much about it... or at all, if I'm being honest..."

"Is everything okay with you two? I thought you were going to move in together next week?"

Lukas swallowed, his eyes growing sad as the memory flooded through his mind. "Yeah, we were."

"I'm sorry," Tino winced. "What happened?"

"I was all packed," Lukas whispered bitterly, his nose twitching with the scowl he used to hide that he felt like crying. "And then he just stopped me in the hallway the other day and said, 'Hey, Lukas, I think we'd better not move in together after all.'"

"Oh, hun..." Tino hugged him, ignoring the awkwardness of the side-car-hug. "I'm so sorry... I'm going to talk to him."

"Don't worry about it," Lukas mumbled. "We're probably as good as over."

"Did he give you a reason?" Tino asked gently, trying not to make the situation worse.

"No... he just sort of walked away."

"I'm sure he loves you," Tino promised as they pulled into the parking lot.

"At this point, who knows?" Lukas turned the car off. "I'm not sure what to think."

"Well, I'm going to go ask him," Tino announced as he got out of the car, pointing at Matthias who was sitting inside the Starbucks, as if placed there by the hands of fate.

Lukas tensed, not enjoying fate's trick. "He's here? You've got to be kidding."

"Stay in the car," Tino suggested. "I'll text you when I've figured it all out."

"No, I... I think I should talk to him."

"Okay," Tino nodded, leading him to the door.

Even with his previous statement, however, Lukas hesitated, hoping the Dane wouldn't see him.

Tino chose to enter first. "Hei, Matthias."

Tenser than ever, Lukas followed him. No turning back now. "Hei..."

Matthias stood when he saw Lukas, nearly knocking his coffee over in his haste. "Hej..."

Tino gently nudged Lukas, prompting him to make the first step.

Lukas bit his lip and stepped forward. "I think we should talk."

Matthias gestured to the seat next to him as he sat back down. "Okay... What about?"

"About the other day." Lukas took a cautious seat next to him. "About... moving in."

"Oh..." Matthias blushed sheepishly. "I don't wanna be a distraction for you."

Lukas blinked in surprise. Of all the explanations he had expected, this was not one of them. "What?"

"Well, you just seemed so against Alfred being with the new guy that I figured..." Matthias's face fell, the few strands of hair that weren't sticking up falling in his face. "I figured it wouldn't be long until you called everything off... I wanted to save you the trouble."

Lukas's eyebrows drew together, his heart hurting as he began to understand. "You thought I was going to cancel everything...?"

Matthias nodded. As he moved, the lights revealed that he'd been crying.

"Oh, Matthias..." Lukas breathed, though he was afraid to touch him, for fear he might make it worse.

"I-it's okay," Matthias insisted, however his voice wavered, betraying his upset. "This way, the team can focus more, right?"

"No, I... I don't care anymore." Lukas forced his own voice to be firm. "I don't care about Alfred, and I don't care about me."

Matthias wiped at his eyes. "I don't understand..."

"What don't you understand?"

"I thought the team meant everything to you..."

"It did. Now I'm trying to be open minded. Hockey is a big part of my life, but it certainly isn't everything."

"You're everything in my life," Matthias blurted out, unable to attempt repressing his feelings anymore. "Please don't break up with me."

"I'm not going to break up with you, Matthias," Lukas promised gently. "And I still want to move in with you... I already had everything packed when you told me we shouldn't."

Matthias had his arms around him before either of them knew what was going on. "I just wanted to help you with what I thought you wanted... Are you still packed?"

Lukas hugged tentatively back, as if he was afraid Matthias might change his mind. "Of course I am, you big dummy."

"We can get moved in before practice tonight if we go now," Matthias smiled, hugging him tighter in happiness.

"Do you think so?"

Nodding, Matthias kissed his cheek. "Do you wanna go?"

"What are you still doing, sitting down?"

Matthias grinned, hopping to his feet.

Within seconds, Tino was abandoned without a second thought. He wasn't alone long, however. A few moments later, boots clicked up behind him.

"It looks like we all had the same idea."

"Hey, Emil," Tino smiled, turning around.

"Hey. What was all that about?"

"Matthias thought Lukas wanted to break up, so he tried to help, but neither of them wanted to, and now they're moving in with each other again."

"Wow," Emil remarked on an exhale. "So now Lukas isn't going to sulk in his room and throw things at me anymore?"

"Yep. Things worked out."

"Well, that's good to hear." Emil sipped his drink. "Lukas promised to buy you coffee, didn't he?"

"Yeah, but it's okay," Tino shrugged. "I'm just happy they made up."

"No, it's not okay. Get over here and order a coffee. It's on me."

Tino grinned, a bit of his unhappiness relieving itself. "Okay."

A few minutes later, both boys sat at a table, drinks in hand.

"Better?" Emil checked from behind his own cup.

"Much," Tino nodded reassuringly. "Anything you need me to fix?"

"Fix?"

"Well, I just fixed your brother's relationship, but I still feel bad about shutting Matthew out."

"You too, huh? I honestly wasn't even sure I liked it when we started."

"I just think we're assuming the worst, y'know? And... Ber called me out on it when we got home."

Emil blinked. Tino's relationship with Berwald had always seemed so flawless. "What? Seriously?"

"Yeah." Tino looked down. "He said that I'd surprised him, that he hadn't thought I'd be mean."

"Are you two still okay?"

"I don't know, that was the last time he spoke to me."

"Seriously?"

Nodding, Tino sipped his coffee. "I deserve it, I guess."

"But it wasn't even your idea."

"I didn't exactly fight it," Tino pointed out softly. "I'm sure we'll be okay after the game."

"I definitely think we need a group meeting after the game."

"Agreed."

* * *

While slipping on his gear in the locker room, Alfred had to pause often to calm his breathing and make sure he was completely alert and focused.

Three goals. That was all he had to score.

It still sounded impossible. They were up against one of the best teams, and the goalie was a pain in the neck, to say the absolute least. Essentially, he was very, very screwed.

Matthew took his hand, giving him a grateful look. "You can do this."

"I hope you're right," Alfred sighed.

Gathering his own courage as the rest of the team headed out, Matthew leaned forward and kissed his cheek. He was out the door in milliseconds.

Alfred went absolutely red.

However, that most certainly woke him up.

Breathing deeply, Alfred followed his team out of the locker room.

As soon as the game started, Matthew made sure to do all he could to help Alfred.

Alfred, to his credit, was the picture of focus. He felt alive again, as if his passion for hockey had woken back up with his brain.

He just had to steal that puck.

"Alfred!" Matthew yelled, roughly passing him the puck as they neared the opposite goal.

A rush of adrenaline fogged Alfred's vision momentarily.

The next thing he knew, his senses were drowned in cheers.

"Yes!" Matthew bellowed, cheerfully bumping shoulders with the American.

Alfred blinked. "Did I score?"

"You did!" Matthew grinned. "Let's do it again!"

"Your wish is my command!"

It was Tino who had the puck now, and he desperately tried to pass it to anyone on his team as the opposition closed in on him.

From a minuscule opening in the wall of opposition, Lukas zipped into range of Tino.

Tino shot the puck at him just before being slammed into the side of the rink by several of the other team's players.

Resisting the urge to skate immediately back and help, Lukas glanced frantically around and shot the puck at Matthias, who immediately passed it to Alfred.

And Alfred was off like a shot.

"Go, go, go!" Matthew yelled, covering his back.

Alfred was in front of the goal in what felt like half a second. The shot he took, however, felt like it stretched over every bit of a million years.

The goalie just barely missed the puck, and the crowd erupted in cheers again.

Skidding to a halt, Alfred let out a breath he hadn't known he'd been holding. Had he really done it again?

With lack of wood to knock on, however, that was when his luck ran out. The other team fought back, even scoring a goal of their own, and it wasn't until the last minute was ticking down that the team controlled the puck again.

"Give it to me!" Alfred barked.

Berwald obliged, shooting the puck to Alfred.

It was down to only a few seconds. There was no time to think.

Alfred took the puck and skated with all the speed he could muster.

Things moved in slow motion.

Alfred felt his heart drop.

Just as the time ran out, the other team's goalie blocked the shot.

Though his team had won, Matthew didn't feel like celebrating like the crowd did. He wrapped an arm around Alfred and led him off the ice.

Alfred looked completely deflated. He had failed, and now the rift would only get worse. He had failed, and now Matthew was going to quit.

As soon as they were in the locker room, Matthew took off both of their helmets and kissed Alfred square on the mouth.

He had tried so, so hard, and Matthew was incredibly grateful.

Despite his surprise, Alfred couldn't even bring himself to enjoy the kiss with all the shame weighing on his mind.

Matthew simply continued to kiss him, ignoring the rest of the team shuffling in.

Though upset, Alfred only pulled back when they needed air. He was completely silent after that, as the rest of the team shuffled in.

"Lukas has something to say to you," Tino spoke up, giving the Norwegian a nudge and a pointed look.

"What is it?" Alfred mumbled, expecting no good news.

"I'm sorry."

Lukas's words shocked the room, but he continued without waiting for them to recover. "You did better than any of us. You should be proud of yourself. And I should not have assumed the worst about the ne-... About Matthew."

Alfred lifted his head a little, daring to look at the Norwegian. "What are you saying?"

"I'm saying the bet is off, and I'm sorry."

Alfred swallowed. "I'm sorry too."

"For what?" Matthew asked, gently squeezing his hand.

"For the lying and sneaking around. I guess I shoulda known these lessons would screw with my hockey performance..."

"Then I should apologize, too," Matthew decided. "I should have at least informed the team, if not canceled the lessons altogether."

"To be fair, I begged you not to," Alfred pointed out.

"And we weren't fair to either of you," Tino piped up, his gaze briefly flickering to Berwald before returning to the floor. "We were mean."

Emil nodded a little. "Yeah... we're really sorry."

"I don't know about Alfred, but I forgive you," Matthew informed them. "On one condition."

Matthias raised an eyebrow. "Condition?"

"I want you all to attend at least one week's worth of my figure skating lessons."

 _The End_

* * *

 **(A/n)**

 **Hello, dear readers!**

 **We have worked our butts off getting this chapter not only written, but transferred and edited within a week of the second one (Well, it would have been within a week if Paris wasn't slow and Moose wasn't having life issues). This is all for you lovely people. What can we say except, "You're welcome"? (Just kidding XD Enjoy the song now stuck in your heads.)**

 **We would like to remind all of you wonderful people that this story was requested by a reader, just like you. We have very very many places to write, and it takes us much less time to write one of your ideas than one of our half-baked ideas. Honestly, we had so much fun with this story; it's nearly fifty pages long as a doc. Trust us when we say we'll have a field day/willingly go overboard.**

 **If ANY of you have a request for a one-, two-, or three-shot, please leave us a review or a PM, and we will be all too happy to write it for you! (Our current favorite pairings are NorFin and SuDen, but any other combination will work, as long as it's not CuCan because we don't particularly like it and probably couldn't write it.)**

 **As for this lovely little story, we are finished for now. We may write you a small epilogue within the next few days/weeks, and we may revisit the AU in time, but we leave you with this, the final chapter of Axel on My Heartstrings.**

 **Thank you so much for reading!**

 **Your friends,**

 **Paris and Moose**


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